


The King's Heart

by DracoWillHearAboutThis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Agravaine's betrayal as a minor side plot, Arthur Building Walls, Arthur's POV, Arthur's betrothal to Mithian, Canon Era, Episode: s04e10 The Herald of a New Age, Episode: s04e11 The Hunter's Heart, I couldn't be bothered tbh, M/M, Merlin is a goood friend to Gwen, Pining Arthur, The real reason Arthur called the whole thing off, This whole thing is mostly pining Arthur, like super minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWillHearAboutThis/pseuds/DracoWillHearAboutThis
Summary: After Guinevere’s betrayal, Arthur’s first instinct had been to keep everyone around him at a safe distance. He was the King of Camelot, after all, and with that came great responsibility - it wouldn’t do for him to be so vulnerable ever again. Loving Guinevere as he had in the past had left him exposed, and he couldn’t afford to be hurt like that in the future.But still, despite all his good intentions, somehow Merlin managed to always slip past his carefully built defences. It shouldn’t be possible, for a person that clumsy and obnoxious to also be this sneaky, but Merlin made it work.





	The King's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear Merlin fandom! This is my first fic to contribute to this fandom, and it's just a little something that flowed out of me after rewatching The Hunter's Heart episode a couple of days ago. This episode is just so full of sulky Merlin and jealousy altogether that I couldn't help myself but write about these stupid, stupid boys. It's only a small one shot which might or might not get a magic-reveal sequel if I feel up to it. My schedule at the moment is erratic and I have a lot of ongoing projects in other fandoms, so starting a new fandom wasn't exactly the smartest move. 
> 
> Then again, you don't choose fandoms, do you? They choose you. And Merlin fandom definitely chose me and shoved me into hell. 
> 
> For now, I hope you enjoy this as a stand-alone. If you do, please drop me a comment :D I'd love to hear what you think!

After Guinevere’s betrayal, Arthur’s first instinct had been to keep everyone around him at a safe distance. He was the King of Camelot, after all, and with that came great responsibility - it wouldn’t do for him to be so vulnerable ever again. Loving Guinevere as he had in the past had left him exposed, and he couldn’t afford to be hurt like that in the future.

But still, despite all his good intentions, somehow Merlin managed to always slip past his carefully built defences. It shouldn’t be possible, for a person that clumsy and obnoxious to also be this sneaky, but Merlin made it work.

Arthur had realised it the night he had chased after Elyan at that druid shrine when he had been possessed by a spirit seeking absolutions from the wrongs Arthur had caused. Naturally, Merlin had followed, because when had Merlin ever done as he had been told? Arthur had been so determined to pay the price for his sins, but as usual, Merlin had been right there with him, a steady support at his side, acceptance without judgement, and above all, a friend keeping him from doing anything rash. And almost as much as by the forgiveness of the boy whose suffering he had caused, Arthur had been shaken by Merlin's unlimited faith in him.

He had realised then and there that he was letting Merlin in way too deep, and the consequences of that would be more severe than he could even begin to imagine. It was all kinds of wrong, Arthur reminded himself, steeling his heart against the little flutters that it had broken out into. His affections for Guinevere had caused a stir amongst the kingdom because of her lack of family and status as a servant at his court, but Merlin, in addition to that, was a man. Arthur, as the king, had responsibilities regarding the Pendragon lineage. He tried hard not to imagine the expression on his father’s face if he were to ever have known of his true feelings for his manservant. Uther Pendragon would have had Merlin executed before Arthur could have even denied the possibility of a romantic entanglement. His reaction to Guinevere would have been a joke in comparison.

Arthur knew that there were other kings with proclivities for the male sex. They made no secrets of taking lovers to their bed while being bound in marriage, but that was not something Arthur could imagine for himself, and much less with Merlin, who was, if nothing else, a close and trusted friend. He could never live a lie like that with Merlin of all people.

So Arthur decided to gulp down his feelings. They could not be. He wasn’t in the position to act on them, and he had to think of his kingdom first and foremost.

Which was how, only weeks later, he became betrothed to Princess Mithian of Nemeth.

It made sense, really. Camelot and Nemeth had been in dispute over lands for centuries, and a marriage bond would lay the lasting animosity aside permanently.

He couldn’t bring himself, though, to tell Merlin about his decision. A few times, he opened his mouth to casually drop the information, but then Merlin said something else entirely and Arthur lost his nerve. And so it happened that Merlin learned the news with the rest of the court through a public announcement in the throne room. Arthur glanced at him briefly throughout his speech and felt sick at the thoroughly thunderstruck look on Merlin’s face.

 _There’s nothing to feel guilty about_ , he reminded himself. And when Merlin lashed out at him after, demanding to know why Arthur hadn’t said anything, Arthur put it down to the confidential nature of the information. And really, that should be enough, shouldn’t it? Merlin was his servant, and he was the King, for God’s sake.

“You can’t do this!” Merlin argued because Merlin being Merlin was never that easily deterred.

“Of course, I can’t,” Arthur quipped, easily falling into their sarcastic banter, using it as a shield to protect himself. “Oh, wait. I’m the _King._ ”

Merlin wasn’t cowed, though. He never was. It was one of the things Arthur loved most about him, if he was quite honest.

“Surely it’s a little bit…”

“What?” Arthur snapped, when Merlin didn’t continue.

“Soon?” Merlin pointed out, as if that part should have been obvious.

The word hit Arthur like a slap. Because _yes_ , it was _too soon_ after Guinevere’s betrayal to be having feelings for someone else. It made him wonder if maybe, these feelings for Merlin hadn’t always been there, right under the surface, without him being aware of them. Laying dormant until Guinevere’s departure, ridding him of all distraction and allowing him to examine his emotions more closely.

He pushed those thoughts away, violently. This was _exactly_ why he needed to put a stop to it.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, pretending, though of course, he knew exactly that Merlin was speaking about Guinevere. Maybe Merlin would drop it if he pretended, though he knew his friend better than that.

“You know what I’m talking about, Arthur,” Merlin said simply.

Arthur gulped, allowing himself, for a moment, to meet Merlin’s startling blue eyes. When Arthur finally found his voice to reply, it was rough, like sand had been poured down his throat.

“Guinevere. I told you not to mention her name again.”

“That’s why I didn’t.”

“What if I told you,” Arthur said, his heart beating wildly in his chest, and for an unreasonable moment, he worried that Merlin would be able to hear it, that he would _know._ “that this had nothing to do with Guinevere?”

Merlin’s face looked pained, and it was apparent that he did not believe him. “Arthur…” he began.

“No, Merlin,” he interrupted him, his voice more firm this time. “She made her choice, and I made mine. There’s nothing more to be said.”

“Except that you still love her,” Merlin argued, sounding annoyed. “I know you do, Arthur!”

And that, more than anything, ignited anger within Arthur because he could see in Merlin’s face that he believed it to be true. By all means, it should probably be true. But seeing Guinevere with Lancelot had broken something inside of Arthur, something that had encased the pure love he had held for her, and now, it had leaked out and was nowhere to be found.

He knew, deep down, that she wasn’t a bad person. He still felt some kind of affection for her. Maybe someday, he would even be able to forgive her. But he would not be able to love her again.

And now, the absence of the innocent, childlike love he had felt for Guinevere had made way for whatever mess it was he was feeling for Merlin, and he really, really wasn’t ready to deal with that. Especially if Merlin was going to ask questions and _push_ like it was any business of his, so before he could stop himself, he had approached Merlin and growled out: “If you ever say anything like that again, I swear you’ll join her in exile.”

There were a myriad of emotions on Merlin’s face - anger, hurt, defiance, and underneath it all, loyalty, _support_ of all _stupid things_ \- and Arthur needed to get away. So he turned on his heels and hurried through the corridors of the citadel until the door to his chambers was satisfyingly slammed shut behind him and he was alone at last.

He leaned against the wooden surface of it, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

“What am I doing?” he whispered to himself.

The empty room gave no answer.

 

Princess Mithian, when she arrived in Camelot, wasn’t at all hard to like. She was a truly lovely woman, as pretty as she was generous in spirit and kindness, and in a world without Merlin or even Guinevere, Arthur could see himself falling fast and happily in love with her.

As it was, he was still sure he would be able to have a happy, comfortable marriage with her. She would make a wonderful queen, for one. She would respect him, but challenge him when necessary. She could make him laugh. She enjoyed hunting, which baffled him to no ends (all these years, he had teased Merlin about being a girl, and then he turned out to be whinier than a bloody _Princess_ ). She was even kind to Merlin, who showed an obvious disregard for her, loyal to a fault to his exiled friend (and Arthur should _not_ be feeling guilty every time Merlin was glaring daggers at him, he wasn’t doing anything _wrong,_ for God’s sake). By all means, she was the perfect candidate for his hand in marriage.

There was just one problem.

Her eyes, as lovely a brown as they were, were not the deep blue of a river throughout a rainstorm. Her hair was a silky dark brown, curling ever so slightly at the ends, but it didn’t make him want to reach out his hands and mess it up like the thick, messy, raven curls on Merlin’s head did. And when had that even _started_ ?! He had never been aware of wanting to touch Merlin’s hair, or his cheek, or his _everything_ , and now every time he looked at him, it was all he could think about, and then he looked back at the Princess, and it just wasn’t the same. And it was driving him insane.

It all came to a head on their hunt, when they found the ring he had given Guinevere on the forest ground. And it wasn’t the reminder of Guinevere that overwhelmed him - though he did feel a pang of worry and guilt - was she hurt? If anything had happened to her, he would be to blame - but no, what had struck him like a sword into the chest was the look on Merlin’s face.

There was pure, unadulterated _panic_ in Merlin’s eyes, and that, more than anything, made him want to send out all his knights in search for Guinevere. Not for himself. For _Merlin._

He needed to get out of here.

“There will be no more hunting today,” he announced, and with that, he made his way back to the castle. He ignored the taunts from Mithian and didn’t allow himself to glance back towards Merlin, afraid of what he would do if he did.

He sat awake by the window in his chambers for most of the night, Guinevere’s ring in his palm, thinking about why he had reacted so violently in the woods. It was when it was beginning to dawn that Arthur realised that he couldn’t bear the thought of being a disappointment to Merlin. The mere idea of not being the man Merlin thought he was made him want to claw his heart out with blunt fingers.

Merlin expected him not to abandon Guinevere. Merlin expected him to be true to himself.

Merlin expected him to marry for love, not duty.

And just like that, Arthur knew he couldn’t marry Mithian. His feelings for Merlin ran too deep for that. The price for the lie he’d be living would be too high. And with that thought in mind, he got to his feet, and made his way across the castle, towards the chambers the Princess was staying in.

It was terribly early and if Arthur had slept even a wink, he would have done this at a more proper time, but he needed to speak his mind now, before he lost his nerve. When the Princess opened the door, she was wrapped up in a thin morning cloak, hair flowing down her shoulders open and unstyled, blinking at him through sleepy and suspicious eyes.

“My lord,” she muttered. “Why on earth-”

“I apologise for rousing you at this hour,” Arthur interrupted her. “But this really could not wait. I need to speak to you this instant.”

Mithian’s eyes widened, but to her credit, she asked no more questions. Instead, she opened the door and stepped aside, allowing him entrance.

Arthur was aware of how many protocols he was breaking by being here. They weren’t meant to be unchaperoned before the ceremony. When he’d been with Guinevere, no one had cared about the proper traditions, but now that his betrothed was of royal birth, things were entirely different.

Then again, if he wasn’t going to marry her, he figured, it didn’t really matter.

“So,” Mithian said, at last, when Arthur didn’t speak. “does this mean I am going to find out why I was so rudely abandoned in the forest earlier today?”

Arthur flinched and turned to face her.

“I am truly sorry about that,” he apologised. “I was overcome by emotions and forgot my manners. I hope you accept my sincere regrets.”

Mithian nodded but didn’t comment. It was obvious that she was waiting for more of an explanation.

“I wished there was anything I could say to convey my remorse about the situation we have found ourselves in,” Arthur said, his words stilting. “‘Sorry’ seems to fall terribly short.”

“You’re not talking about the hunting trip anymore, are you?” Mithian said softly.

“No,” Arthur confirmed. “I’m talking about our betrothal. I’m sorry, but I have to call it off.”

Mithian was silent for a long moment. Arthur gave her that time, biting his tongue. When Mithian finally spoke, her tone was calm, collected.

“That ring,” she said. “In the forest…”

“It belonged to someone I once cared about,” Arthur agreed. “But that is not the reason why I’m doing this.”

“Oh,” Mithian said, frowning. “Then, may I ask…?”

Arthur took a deep breath. She had a right to the truth, he reminded himself. He’d made a mess of this. Now she deserved an explanation.

“Shortly before our betrothal,” Arthur told her, his voice heavy. “I realised that I had… feelings for someone… very close to me. And it scared me, because the last time I'd opened my heart, I was hurt very badly. Not to mention that this person… they aren’t what you’d call appropriate for the King of Camelot to court. At all, in fact. So I decided that…” Arthur cleared his throat, words failing him. “That…”

“That if you can’t have him, you might as well marry for duty,” Mithian finished for him, her eyes glistening. Arthur started at her choice of pronoun, staring. She smiled. “It’s Merlin, isn’t it?”

“How?” Arthur breathed.

“There’s something about the two of you,” Mithian shook her head, looking bemused. “I don’t know what it is. You revolve around each other.” After a moment of consideration, she added: “And at least now I know why he couldn’t warm up towards me. This makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“He is very loyal to the girl I’ve been betrothed to before you,” Arthur contradicted her, heart and voice heavy. “She’s his friend. He probably felt like he’d be betraying her if he was too nice to you. I don’t think it had anything to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Mithian raised an eyebrow. “He cares a lot about you, Arthur. I’d wager that between you and her, you’re his priority. By far.”

Arthur didn’t answer, didn’t explain that he didn’t doubt any of that. He knew Merlin’s loyalties very well. It was more complicated than that.

“I’m very sorry I have to step back from our agreement,” Arthur told her once more.

“I think I understand,” Mithian nodded. “I thank you for your honesty. And I wish you the best of luck for the path ahead of you, my lord, for it is not an easy one.”  
  
“That it is not,” Arthur agreed. “But it is the only choice I have if I want to stay true to myself.”

“Merlin is a very lucky man,” she smiled. “I would give up my own kingdom to be as loved as he is.”

The ghost of a smile stretched Arthur’s lips.

“I’m not sure he’ll feel the same way,” he admitted. “I’m afraid my love might be more of a burden than a gift.”

“That’s up to him to decide,” Mithian said with a tip of her head. “Don’t you think?”

Arthur huffed out a little laugh and nodded.

 

When Arthur returned to his chambers, the sun had already risen completely in the sky, and Merlin was standing in the middle of the room, looking frantic but determined.

“What-?” Arthur began, but Merlin cut him off.

“Sire, I need to talk to you. It’s important, very important.”

Arthur stared at him, taking in the tension in Merlin’s shoulders. It sent him into a state of high alert.

“What is it?” Arthur found himself asking.

“It’s Agravaine, Sire,” Merlin told him. “I have reason to believe he’s plotting with Morgana to overrun Camelot. They’re calling on forces with the help of Helios as we speak, and Agravaine provided them with the plans of the siege tunnels.”

Arthur’s first instinct was to shout at Merlin. His uncle would never betray him. He had been his trusted ally since his father’s death, and without him -

But this was _Merlin_ he was talking to. Merlin, who had always been loyal to him, and who he knew, deep in his heart, would never betray him.

He _loved_ Merlin, and he’d made a decision to stand by those feelings, hadn’t he? That included not running when Merlin confronted him with an uncomfortable suspicion he believed to be true.

He was going to trust Merlin.

Suddenly unsteady on his feet, Arthur staggered to pull out one of the chairs and take a seat. Merlin, misunderstanding the action, rushed to approach him, pressing on: “Arthur, I know you want to believe your Uncle is on your side, but you know I would never come to you unless the situation was grave. I went out last night to look for Gwen and -”

“Gwen?” Arthur asked, absentmindedly. “Is she all right?”

“She was injured, but she’ll live,” Merlin said grimly. “Morgana enchanted her. She was the one giving me the information. I asked her to come herself, but she wouldn’t.”

Arthur took a deep breath, brushing a palm over his eyes. He had not slept enough for a crisis of this dimension.

“Arthur, please,” Merlin muttered. “You have to believe me-”

“I believe you,” Arthur interrupted him. “I’m thinking about what to do.”

“You - oh,” Merlin said, sounding taken aback.

“We need to arrest Agravaine and question him,” Arthur murmured. “and secure the siege tunnels against an attack. And we need to send out troops to find Guinevere, so she can give us all the information she has. And the Princess Mithian needs to be sent back to Nemeth immediately. Now that our betrothal is off the table and Camelot is in danger, she needs to get back to safety.”

“Your betrothal - what?” Merlin asked, staring at him with wide eyes. “When did _that_ happen?”

“You’re not the only one who had a busy night,” Arthur said wryly, finally meeting Merlin’s gaze. They just looked at each other for a moment, and Arthur had to press down on the urge to pull his stupid, useless manservant into his arms and never let go. “There’s a lot I need to tell you,” Arthur admitted, his voice rough. “But not now. Later.”

“Later,” Merlin repeated, sounding dazed. “First, we need to save Camelot.”

“Exactly,” Arthur snorted. “Think you can track down the knights for our little arrest while I go and alert the Princess?”

Merlin smiled at that, conspiratory and wide, and Arthur’s heart shouldn’t be beating faster at the sight of that, not when his kingdom was in immediate danger.

“Leave it to me, Sire,” Merlin said, reaching out a hand to help him to his feet.

 

Arthur barely saw Merlin throughout the rest of the day. Between strategic meetings with his knights, interrogating his filthy traitor of an uncle, coordinating search parties for Guinevere, sending Mithian off and explaining to the court and his people that there would be no wedding in the near future, he only caught glimpses of his servant every once in a while, and when he finally made it back to his chambers at the end of the day, he was so bone-deep tired that he collapsed onto his bed and fell right asleep.

When Merlin woke him the next morning, it took him a while to blink open his eyes and gain coherence.

“You will be delighted to hear that your uncle is still under lock and key,” Merlin informed him. “Which is not a given, let’s face it. People tend to escape from our dungeons.”

“I don’t remember naming you head of security,” Arthur drawled, stretching underneath the covers.

“Oh, believe me,” Merlin snorted. _“Not_ a job I want. You’d just find a way to blame me for even more things going wrong around here. Nah-ah. Not under my watch.”

“So you’ll just keep messing up my breakfast instead,” Arthur quipped, a smile spreading over his face. “And my armour, and my room, and my-”

“I’m not listening to this,” Merlin interrupted him, pointedly placing his plate on the table and throwing him a glare over the shoulder. Arthur huffed out a laugh. Then he fell silent as he watched Merlin move around the room, setting out his clothes, hanging away freshly washed ones.

 _I need to tell him,_ Arthur thought. _Before madness falls upon us once more and I lose my chance. He needs to know._

“Merlin,” Arthur began, his voice very quiet.

Too quiet, it turned out, because Merlin talked right over him.

“Once Elyan returns with Gwen, I’ll make sure the two of you will find the time to talk things over, don’t worry. I know it’s been hell cooked over around here, but I’ll pull some strings. Don’t underestimate the power of the staff. We’ll find a way.”

“Merlin,” Arthur frowned. “I sent for Guinevere because I was grateful for her warning. I will revoke her exile for the same reasons. I don’t have any other intentions beyond that.”

Merlin sighed.

“Aren’t you done denying yourself?” Merlin asked him, looking sad. “I thought that’s why you sent the Princess away?”

Arthur gulped. This was it, he realised. It was now or never.

He sat up and pushed the sheets aside, getting to his feet. He was suddenly very uncomfortably aware of his own state of undress - because of the warmth of the first spring days, he had slept without a tunic and only in breeches - and while normally, he didn’t mind nakedness in front of Merlin, now was different. Still, he tried not to think about it as he approached him, stopping only when they were facing each other, Merlin looking at him in confusion and something like alarm.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m done denying myself. But it’s not Guinevere I want.”

“What?” Merlin asked, staring at him, uncomprehending.

“It’s not Guinevere who made me change my mind about Mithian,” Arthur confessed. “It was you.” Merlin didn’t say anything, wide blue eyes fixed on Arthur’s. Arthur wasn’t even sure he was breathing. _Well, at least he hasn’t run,_ Arthur thought grimly. He took a deep breath, pushing on. “Ever since Guinevere’s betrayal I’ve been realising that my affections have… changed,” Arthur hesitated, grimacing. “Though I’m not quite sure that’s the right word, to be honest. I think on some level, I’ve always had feelings for you. I just didn’t see it until Guinevere was out of the picture. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Arthur,” Merlin muttered, his voice brittle. “What…?”

“I love you,” Arthur said, simple and true, his heart racing in his chest with the relief of voicing it out loud. “ _You_ , Merlin. Not Guinevere. Not Mithian. If something happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. In a mass of people, you’re the face I search. I strive to be a better King, a better person, because I can’t bear the thought of disappointing you. It’s you I want, Merlin.”

Merlin still wasn’t saying anything, but his breathing had become laboured. He was still staring at Arthur with impossibly wide eyes, and with a start, Arthur realised that he was trembling.

“Merlin -” he tried to reach out for him, but Merlin shook his head, shying away from the touch. It felt like a slap to the face.

“But you can’t,” Merlin breathed, still shaking his head. “You’re not _supposed_ to feel this way. This is all _wrong._ You have to marry Gwen. That’s how it should be.”

Arthur gulped, feeling slightly sick.

“Well,” he said, his voice small. “I can’t marry anyone I don’t love, and my feelings for her are just… They’re not the same anymore, and they’ll never be. So if you don’t feel the same way…” Arthur gulped, shrugging helplessly. “I guess I’ll be a bachelor until I can move on.” _If I can move on_ , he added, in his mind.

“I never - I -” Arthur met Merlin’s eyes again and saw them swimming in tears he was desperately trying to rule in. _Oh god_ , Arthur thought. If he cried now, this would haunt him forever. “I never thought I could have you,” Merlin brought out finally, his voice breaking. Arthur’s heartbeat picked up again. “I never thought - it was supposed to be Gwen. And I was fine with that - Gwen is my friend and she’s wonderful and I could tell myself this was the way it was meant to be. You were both happy. That was enough for me. But then you exiled her and brought along Princess Mithian and I was so angry because -” Merlin cut himself off, gulping, hard. A stray tear slid down his cheek.

Arthur stepped forward to catch it with his thumb, cupping his face with both hands.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I tried to prove to myself that I didn’t need you. I tried to make myself forget. But I couldn’t. I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

“This is still wrong,” Merlin argued, his eyes swimming with tears.

“I’m the bloody King of Camelot,” Arthur ground out. “I decide what’s right and what’s wrong!”

And with that, he claimed Merlin’s lips in a kiss that could conquer kingdoms and bring enemies to their knees. He kissed Merlin as he’d never kissed anyone - desperate, with fingertips digging into thick, dark hair and not letting go, hot breaths and tiny gasps mingling as their mouths met again and again, gentle and hungry at the same time, tender and demanding. It wasn’t sweet, not the way he had kissed Guinevere. It was passionate and still strangely chaste. Pure emotion poured into the brushing of their lips, again and again, until Arthur felt like his knees were going to give away and his eyes were stinging from tears he hadn’t felt coming.

He hadn’t known kissing could _feel_ like this. So entirely soul shattering.

By the time they were pulling apart, tears were running down Merlin’s face unhindered, and he was trembling from head to toe. Arthur himself felt more than a little shaky, so he pulled him into his arms, holding him tight, feeling the tremor of Merlin’s body against his own, hoping they could ground each other.

“This is a horrible idea,” Merlin muttered finally, his voice muffled, seeing as he refused to lift his face from where it was pressed against Arthur’s throat.

“Probably,” Arthur agreed. “Out of all of Camelot, I would have been hard-pressed to find someone less appropriate than you. Hell, even _Gwaine_ would have been easier to sell.”

Merlin spluttered at that, and Arthur chuckled.

“That’s… not the point I was trying to make,” Merlin muttered, sounding entirely miserable.

“Well, quite frankly, I don’t care about the point you’re trying to make,” Arthur told him, rolling his eyes. “All I care about is whether you love me or not.”

At that, Merlin finally deigned to surface from their embrace, meeting Arthur’s gaze with a reverent expression.

“I do,” he whispered. “Gods help me, but I do.”

Arthur smiled at that and leaned in to brush their lips together once more, very gently.

“That’s all that matters to me, then,” he breathed. “Consider yourself courted, Merlin.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at that, looking a strange mix between intrigued and appalled. _Adorable_ , Arthur thought, in the privacy of his own mind.

“I should be worried, shouldn’t I?” Merlin deadpanned.

“You should feel flattered,” Arthur snorted. “The King doesn’t court just _anyone_ , you know, not to mention a mere servant-”

“Definitely worried,” Merlin nodded, but he laughed when Arthur silenced him with a kiss.


End file.
